A Second Chance For A Simple Touch
by DobbyRocksSocks
Summary: When Harry meets his soulmate the morning after the final battle, it's too much and he runs away. Will he get a second chance to get it right?


**Disclaimer - I own nothing you recognise. **

**Challenges listed at the bottom. **

**Word Count **\- 2034

_Written for Emma, for GGE. I'm so sorry this is so late, but I hope you enjoy it anyway. _

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**A Second Chance For A Simple Touch **

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The battle ravaged grounds of Hogwarts still looked beautiful in the morning light. Harry sat down in his once favourite spot under the old oak tree by the lake and watched the sun rise over the castle.

Many of the people who'd fought were catching some well deserved sleep. He wished he could join them, but he'd only managed a few hours before nightmares forced him from the comfort of the bed he'd claimed.

Unable to settle in the castle, and unwilling to disturb his friends, Harry had pulled on a jumper and slipped out of the doors onto the grounds. He'd stumbled a few times over left over debris, and each time, he felt a stab of guilt.

He knew it was Voldemort's fault that there had been a battle at all, but Harry couldn't help but feel responsible for taking the battle to Hogwarts.

The school, and the students enclosed in it, had deserved better.

So many young people had died, fighting for what they believed in, be it good or bad, light or dark.

He hated that so many had given their lives to the fight. He hated that George had lost his twin, that Dennis Creevey wouldn't have a big brother to look out for him anymore. That Teddy had lost his parents.

So many were gone, and those were only names that he knew now. He knew that as the next few days came, more names would arrive, each one leaving behind invisible scars on everyone they knew and loved.

Everyone who knew and loved them.

He supposed it would be the same for those on the dark side; no matter that they were on the opposing side, Harry was sure they'd be leaving behind plenty of scars of their own for the people who loved them.

He ran a hand through his perpetually messy hair. His emotions were all over the place, and he didn't have any idea what he was supposed to do now. It felt like his whole life had been leading up to the final fight with Voldemort, and now, he was adrift.

It was odd. Not necessarily bad, but just… odd.

As the sun settled high in the sky, the grounds gained more footfall as people exited the castle. Many of them were clutching cups of coffee, various scrapes and cuts and bruises visible as they took in the morning air.

Harry wondered if they were as surprised to be alive as he was.

"You okay, Potter?"

Harry blinked and twisted slightly, surprised to see Zabini standing close by, his hands buried in the pockets of his hoodie. He nodded, surprised that the other man was even acknowledging him.

While he didn't believe that Zabini had ever openly declared himself to any side of the war, he didn't believe that the Slytherin suddenly wanted to be friends.

"You're bleeding."

Harry frowned and looked down to where Zabini had pointed, sighing to himself. One of the many cuts on his arm had opened, leaving droplets of blood on his clean t-shirt. He really should have let Madam Pomfrey heal him up, but she'd had so many more patients to try and help, he'd waved her off.

"I can fix that for you, if you want? And the others?" Zabini offered tentatively. When Harry's eyebrows raised, Zabini continued, "I want to be a healer. I've been working with Poppy—Madam Pomfrey—in the hospital wing, all year."

"Oh. Uh. Sure?" Harry replied unsurely, holding his arm out. He couldn't stop himself flinching minutely when Zabini drew his wand, but he held his arm steady when the other man hesitated.

With quietly murmured healing spells, Zabini, true to his word, fixed up the cuts littering Harry's arm, and then his other arm. He looked at the few on Harry's face, but thought better than to point his wand there, for which Harry was grateful.

"Thanks," Harry murmured, when it was done.

Zabini nodded. "You should get some rest, Potter. No offence, but you kinda look like shit."

Harry snorted. He could believe it. "Tried. Failed. Not in a hurry to try again," he admitted.

The look on Zabini's face was entirely empathetic, and Harry wondered what, or who, had been the subject of _his _nightmares.

Still, from the way the grounds were filling, Harry knew he had to return to the castle. The last thing he wanted was for Ron and Hermione to panic if they couldn't find him, and he knew it was likely. They'd both reprimanded him thoroughly already for the way he ditched them to meet Voldemort in the forest, and he could see in the way they tracked him that the effects of that wouldn't just go away.

He tried to push himself to his feet, only to find himself lacking the energy. Before he could try again, a hand was held out to him.

Harry placed his own hand in Zabini's and gasped. As Zabini pulled him to his feet, there was a current of what felt like electricity passing between their hands, and when they separated, Harry looked down at his palm to see a purple mark there.

He looked up to see shock reflected back at him as their eyes met, and Harry did the only thing he could.

He ran.

…

"War is over now, Harry," Hermione said, exasperated. "You're allowed a life!"

"I know that," Harry replied patiently, stirring the sauce in the pan. Though Molly had offered him numerous times to teach him cooking magic, he still preferred the Muggle way whenever he had the time. "I'm living aren't I?"

"You go to work, and you come home, and you do… what exactly? All the papers have been reporting on how much of a hermit you are!"

Harry snorted. "And you're wondering why I don't want to go out. They're relentless, Hermione. When everything calms down… then I'll see about doing things outside, okay?"

"And Blaise?"

"Blaise? Since when do you call him Blaise?"

"Since he comes to me for updates on you, since you _won't speak to him._"

"He deserves something better than what I can give him," Harry muttered, turning his head away. "He'll see that and move on."

"Is this all just a game to you?" Hermione demanded, though she softened as soon as he turned to look at her over his shoulder. "Okay, I'm sorry, that wasn't fair. It's just… you're so focused on trying to fix everything, Harry. It's not about how much we've lost, it's about how much we have left. Blaise is your _soulmate._"

"I know that!"

"Harry… why are you hiding from this? You don't even know him! He could make you so happy!"

"But I can't make him happy, Hermione," Harry snapped, shaking his head. "I can't… I can barely keep my _own _head above water at the moment, never mind adding another person's happiness to that."

"Harry… I'm worried about you," she admitted, leaning on the table as he poured the sauce into the pasta. "The only time Ron or I see you is if we come here. You need to, I don't know, do something fun!"

His lips quirking, Harry replied, "I never thought _you'd _be lecturing _me _about fun, Hermione."

She rolled her eyes. "Just think about it, okay?"

"Sure."

…

Harry paused, mid sentence, when he caught sight of Blaise watching him across the ballroom. It was the year anniversary of the Battle of Hogwarts, which of course, meant it was only a day off a year since the two of them had touched hands.

"You should talk to him, mate," Ron said, nudging his shoulder. "He's been miserable, you know?"

"He's been talking to you about me, too?" Harry asked, eyebrow raising.

Ron shrugged. "I see him when I visit Hermione at the hospital. They're on the same internship."

Right. That made sense. Harry coloured slightly.

"I just think that he deserves a chance," Ron added, shrugging. "He's alright, for a Slytherin."

Harry rolled his eyes. "You know that it was never about him, right?"

Ron nodded. "I know. I just… think you should give yourself a little more credit. You've been doing better lately, and… I want you to be happy. We all do. If he's the one who can do that best, then that's what you should have."

"I should go and speak to him, shouldn't I?"

…

Blaise, Harry admitted to himself, looked stunning in elegant navy blue robes. He'd been watching him for over an hour, and finally, he'd wandered off towards a balcony. Harry took the chance and followed him, glad to find the balcony empty aside from Blaise.

"Hey."

Blaise turned to look at him, his eyebrow raising. "I wondered if you were going to speak to me at all this evening."

"I'm sorry," Harry said, approaching him slowly. He leant on the rail beside Blaise, both hands clasped around his glass. "Really, really sorry. I've handled this really badly, I know. It wasn't fair to you."

"And now?" Blaise asked.

Harry hesitated. "You need to know that it was never about you. The avoidance, it was all me, and I'll be the first to admit that I was being selfish. I just… needed some time, I guess. You deserved to hear that from me though, instead of the way I just _ignored _you."

"I realised that. It's why I didn't try to see you."

"You were pretty persistent about asking Hermione about me," Harry replied, a teasing lilt to his tone. "I appreciate that you gave me time. I truly am sorry, Blaise."

Blaise nodded. "I can see that. I'm… not averse to trying this thing again."

"Yeah?"

Blaise held his hand out. "I'm Blaise Zabini. It's a pleasure, Harry."

Harry took his hand for a second time without hesitation, a smile stretching his lips until his cheeks hurt. "The pleasure is all mine, Blaise."

…

"Sweet Merlin, you're embarrassing yourselves," Draco muttered, rolling his eyes as Blaise slipped his arm around Harry's waist as he was about to sit down in the booth, tugging him onto Blaise' lap instead. "Do you have to be so utterly loved up?"

"Pretty sure you're the only one that's embarrassed, Draco," Harry snorted. "Since you're the only one dressed like Santa's elf."

"You're a menace, Potter."

"Well, you will make bets with him," Blaise replied, smirking. "You should have learnt after the Mrs Claus outfit last year, Draco."

"I wanted to see the two of them dressed like elves," Draco muttered, his cheeks flushed red.

"And yet," Ron announced through laughter as he and Hermione joined them. "Here we are. In normal clothes. While you look like that!"

Draco glared at Ron as he cackled and then rolled his eyes. "Get on with it, Granger. As soon as the pictures are taken, I'm getting changed."

Hermione slipped her camera from her bag and the four men huddled a little closer together. Harry, Ron and Blaise were all smiling brightly, while Draco pouted between them.

"I'll get you back for this next year," Draco warned. "All of you. Watch me."

"Oh we will be watching you, mate," Harry agreed. "I've already picked out your sugar plum fairy costume, I can't wait to see you in it!"

Draco stomped off to change into his normal robes, and Blaise shook his head at Harry, amusement clear in his handsome features.

"You take entirely too much pleasure in dressing him up," he muttered,nipping at Harry's jaw.

"It's good for him," Harry replied. "Makes him realise that he's allowed to be silly once in a while. We'll get him so used to it that he'll be excited for costumes before long, just you wait."

Blaise rolled his eyes. "Just… don't torture him too much in front of the other Aurors. He'll sulk for weeks."

"Promise," Harry agreed. "Love you."

Blaise stole a quick kiss and grinned. "Love you too."

…

_Harry kept his word and didn't tease Draco too much at work. The photo still managed to find its way onto the notice board in the Auror department. _

_Draco, after accepting the heavy teasing for a few days, didn't even seem to mind that much. _

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**Written for: **

Angel's Archive: 11. Morning.

Marvel: 15. "It's not about how much we lost, it's about how much we have left."

Lyric: 19. War is over now.

North Funfair: Christmas Market: Gobstones - "Is this all just a game to you?" / Blaise Zabini

East Funfair: Snow Art - Blue: Embarrassed / Purple: Persistent / Green: Harry Potter

South Funfair: Light The Menorah - 8. Soulmates

Days of the Year: 60. Homemade Bread Day: Someone cooking dinner the Muggle way.

365\. 352. Elegant


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